The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1887-10-27

seemed more cruel to me than that awfu
storm, more cruel than life, but you coulc
help yourself. Sister, you said IN 4
strange voice, voice that made me trem
BILE, do not think that you are alone II
your dilemma. Many another, and many
stronger one, too, has succumbed to ths
same temptation, and dared to love where
love was forbidden. Pray for them as fol
yourself have no comfort to give you
but follow my counsel. Go back to the
world, and, when the world has taught
you to forget, then seek the church's par
don and the church's consolation, not be
fore.''
"You were that woman ?" said the pas
tor, his voice sinking to an aghast whis
per.
81 am telling you my own story" she
replied. Hear me out. Your answer
chilled, but did not crush me. found q
certain comfort in it after time. Al
least then, said to myself, do not suffer
do not love alone, and, who could tell
l was perhaps even loved in return
found consolation in the thought that We
two, my nameless lover and myself, were
martyrs together So went back to the
world as you bad hidden me. I tried to
be mundane and heartless-to forget.
NY life now was changed. My father
was named ambassador at foreign court.
We spent several years out of France, and
existence was one prolonged whirl OF
pleasure and excitement But l never
forgot -
She flashed upon him the light of her
pure, lovely eyes, and said passionately
g. cung to one memory; lived in it
still. And when | returned to Paris a
few months ago, an orphan, mistress of
my own fortunes, alone in the world, l
learned your strange story. Force Of
conviction had led you to change your re-
ligion. Like myself, You were free 20
The very sound Of that word seemed to
have magic for her ears. The timid, hesi-
tating look of appeal vanished, her voice
grew strong, firm, exultant. Tears rose
to the sweet eyes and trembled on the
delicately flushed check, but they were
tears Of pure JOY.
"For, of COURSE" she said gathering his
hands to her own-the words she had
just uttered, almost to her own thinking,
made them already one" 1t is of your
self have been speaking all this time,
and was not surely wrong; You loved
me, did you not? To think then Of the
the joy felt when l learned what had
happened For the first time in my life
| l rejoiced in the fact that l was rich.
Oh! said to myself, now at last my
wealth can be turned to noble uses. In
his hands it will become thing to glory
in. do not care for splendor or ease, in
deed | do not" she said, emphasizing the
words with artless sincerity. "Icould be
quite happy in such home as this, 10y
your side. But you were made for lofty
position, you were born to rule. Think,
then, how useful my large fortune will be
to you. If, indeed, it is better religion,
q h'ghe, .rnth that you now follow you
may be the means of persuadinp many.
l nave planned it all. We will build a
from far and wide people oplE-"k Will" hdek dSk;to to
hear you. Once more you will be In your
proper sphere, for l am sure you cannot
be happy or quite satisfied here. This
career Of country pastor is too narrow,
too circumscribed, for nature like
yours"
He bowed acquiescingly. Yes, it was
all true. So much his face said.
Gall that have is yours" she went
on {" the vast fortune my father left me,
the hotel in Paris, the Chateau in Tou-
raine, these are as dross to ME, and all |
care for, live for is this -
The clear impassioned voice broke
down; the fair head dropped; the hand
she held TO her heart was kissed and be-
dewed with tears.
Throughout the latter part of their in
terview the pastor had seemed under a
spell. Once or twice he fain to interrupt,
but utterance failed him. He, too, was
flushed, fearful, shaken in every limb.
Those last wild words, those burning
tears and kisses on his hand, broke the
charm and recalled him to realities. He
| rose now and for moment stood over her
with strange expression as if he were
calling down the blessings of heaven upon
her fair head as if indeed he were shrink
ing from some angelic vision, that re-
proved his own faultiness and morality.
| Then without a word, he led her to the
| window.
1t 10 ,ked upon the long narrow garden
stretching from the house and little
church, now flooded with warm sunshine.
All was calm, golden, peaceful; yet Geor-
pette gazed with a sudden, unexplained
sinking of the heart. At the farther end,
under the shadow of lofty plane tree,
| was a deal table, and by it stood patient
faced woman evidently belonging to the
peasant class, busily ironing. Homely as
was her appearance, it was nevertheless,
not without a certain dignity and pathos.
She looked so absorbed in the business of
ironing, so forgetful OF self, 80 lost to a
sense of everything but the matter Of fact,
prosaic task before her.
you soc yonder poor good woman,
the pastor said as the pair thus watched
the unconscious figure from the window.
al loved another, whose story you have
lust told. But the first act of my new
life. and newly awakened conscience. was
to atone to her l had wronged in my
youth"
And romance had now surely knocked
At that parsonage door for the first, last
time. With burning tears, hand clasp
a whispered word, and one long lingering
paze into each others eyes, the two
parted. Who shall say ever to meet
again?
Strange as it would seem at first sight
this fatetul meeting affected the tenor ot
their outward lives. 1t was as if all the
daring, all the heroism, all the force o.
these two characters had been already
spent: by Georgette de Beaumont upor
ne initiative that had been the one truly